


Asra and The Baker

by joyful_soul_collector



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asra (The Arcana)'s Route, Asra as a child, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Asra, Hurt/Comfort, Little Asra, Little!Asra, Magic, Magic Revealed, Magical Accidents, Male Pronouns for Asra (The Arcana), Malnutrition, Poor Asra, Selasi, Soft Muriel (The Arcana), Starvation, Sweet Asra (The Arcana), The Baker - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hunger, hungry Asra, muriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyful_soul_collector/pseuds/joyful_soul_collector
Summary: Set back when Asra was young and living in the streets of Vesuvia. This is the story of how Asra met the Baker! Super cute and fluffy, yay.





	1. Asra

“You have a good day sir!” I called to the last customer. I looked up and down the street, as the sun started to set slowly on the horizon. It’d been a good sale day, with only two loaves left unsold. It didn’t look like any more customers would be here anytime soon, so I started closing up shop. The stiff burn scars on my fingers ached as I started putting everything away. 

_ CRASH! _ Something metal hit the ground behind me. I whirled around looking for the source, but there was no one around. I heard a scuffling sound coming from around the corner and I peered past the wall to see… a small child, searching through the contents of a tipped over trash can.

He had fluffy hair that was white as freshly fallen snow, but it was coated in grime and dust from the street. He had on purple robes that were just a bit too big for him, and a red scarf wrapped around his shoulders. The poor kid couldn’t have been more than five or six.

He was crying. I could hear small, high-pitched sobs coming from him as he searched through the garbage, his too-thin shoulders shaking. My heart instantly broke, seeing this poor, hungry child search through the garbage for his dinner. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d stepped out into the alleyway.

“Hey, you alright kiddo?” I said after a few steps forward. 

He took one look at me, large purple eyes widening, tear and mud-streaked face making an expression of absolute terror. Suddenly he was sprinting around the corner of the alleyway, red scarf flapping behind him. 

“Hey! Kid! It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you!” I chased after him, trying desperately to keep his snowy white head in view. He tore down a street full of vendors, all closing up like I had been. 

The little tyke dipped and weaved between the legs of the few people in the street, and bounded over boxes and dropped items with ease. He was somehow able to jump right over a crate that was twice his size, without any hesitation. Meanwhile I’m falling behind, bumping into other shop owners, muttering vague apologies as I tripped over all the items the child had been able to evade. 

“Kid! Hey-- Oh so sorry-- Kid! It’s okay, I want to help you!”

The child looked back at me at these words, and I almost wish he hadn’t, because then he would’ve been able to avoid the person who appeared from behind a large cart. Count Lucio. 

The babe ran right into his leg, toppling over backwards and hitting the ground with a painful-sounding  _ smack! _ Count Lucio looked down at the child with a look you would give a slightly squashed slug on the side of the road. I’ve never seen a person look at a child with such distaste, not to mention one who was clearly in need of help. 

“What’s this,” he said tonelessly, picking up the little one by the back of his too-big robes. 

“He’s-He’s mine, sir!” I said. The child looked at me in shock, but I shook my head slightly, warning him not to speak. The snow-haired kid closed his mouth, and turned his eyes to Lucio. In that moment I knew we were both wondering what on earth he would do.

Count Lucio glared at me, his gaze enough to make me worried I would burst into flames. For a moment I thought he would shout, or hit me, or worse hit the kid. But Lucio just dropped him, and he went down a little slower than usual, like gravity didn’t work on him as well as it did on most people. 

“Keep better track of your kid, will you? I don’t want street-rats ruining my clothes.” Lucio turned away, cloak billowing behind him, golden arm blindingly bright in the setting sun. 

I rushed to the child as he stood up. There was a long slice on his forearm, and he was examining it with a rather unsurprised look.

“Hey, are you alright?” I said soothingly, crouching down. I looked at the gash on his arm, trying to decide if he needed stitches or not. “Here, why don’t you come with me, I can help you with that.”

But he waved away my offer with his other hand, saying calmly, “It’s okay, I got it.” He hovered his hand over the gash, and it started to stitch itself up, leaving only slightly inflamed skin behind.  _ He’s magic, _ I thought.  _ That’s why he could jump over all those crates. _

“I’m okay now,” he said, looking up at me. But I knew he wasn’t okay, his hair was still dirty, his face had smeared teartracks all down his cheeks, and he looked too thin to be standing up-right. But he was telling me he was okay, like he really was. Like this was normal for him. 

I held out my hand to him and said, “Do you want to come with me? I can help you. Make you feel better.” He glanced hesitantly at my scarred fingers, then back up at me.

“Make me feel better?”

“Yeah. Get you some food? Something to drink? Maybe wash a bit of that dirt off your face? How does that sound?”

He pondered a moment, then nodded. I scooped him up and he gave a little squeak of surprise, before giggling as I rested him on my shoulders.  He tangled his little hands into my curls as we set off back to the shop.

“So, what’s your name kiddo?” I asked.

“Asra,” he answered. 


	2. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baker takes Asra to his bakery

“So, what’s your name kiddo?” I asked.

“Asra,” he answered. 

“Asra,” I repeated. “That’s a nice name. My name’s Selasi.”

“Selasi,” Asra said. “That’s a good name too.”

“Really? I always thought it was rather funny,” I said.

“Funny?”

“Yeah, like something you would name a snake, or a lizard. Ssssssellaaaassssiiiiiii,” I hissed, slithering one of my arms like a snake.

“Heehee! That  _is_ pretty funny!” Asra giggled happily, until his stomach rumbled loudly and he stopped with a whimper. I felt one of his little hands leave my curls, undoubtedly traveling to hold his empty belly.

“Can you tell me the last time you ate, bud?” I said gently. He paused for a moment before answering.

“Um, few days ago I think,” he said, his voice trembling. I could tell he was about to cry again. I don’t blame him, if I was his age and hadn’t eaten in that long, I would be crying too.  _Hell, I’d probably be crying as an adult_ , I thought. 

“I’m really hungry,” he said, sniffing as tears fell from his face into my hair. “My tummy hurts. Been hurting for forever.”

“I know, I’m sure it has buddy. I’m gonna get you some food though. How do you feel about pumpernickel bread? And some lapsang souchong tea?”

Asra’s belly snarled in response, the sound loud in my ears.

“Mmm, sounds like that’s what your tummy wants.”

Asra laughed through his tears as we rounded the corner to my shop. I lifted him off my shoulders and set him on the counter. He swung his feet happily as I set about warming up the bread and making the tea.

“Okay Asra, there’s one rule for eating the bread, and that is that you have to eat it  _slowly_.” I said, setting the two leftover loaves by the still-hot oven so they could warm up. I moved over to the kettle and started making the tea.

“Why?” Asra asked.

“If you eat too fast, it’ll make your tummy hurt worse, and you might throw up. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No, that’s not good. I want food to stay  _in_ my tummy,” Asra said, covering his belly with his arms like he was trying to protect it from hurting more. He frowned for a moment, and stopped swinging his feet. “What if I eat too fast on accident?”

“Oh don’t worry hun, I’ll make sure you won’t. And tea helps too, makes your belly all nice and warm.”

“Mmmm, warm,” he echoed with a grin. 

I got out a wet rag and handed it to Asra, telling him to wipe off his hands and face before going to the oven and grabbing one of the warm loaves. I cut three large slices for him, being sure to put butter on them first. Asra watched my every move as I set the plate down beside him.

He set the rag down on his other side, his face and hands now clean, and picked up the bread gingerly. He began to eat. 

At first he was slow, trying to follow my instructions, but as he chewed and swallowed I could tell he was realizing he was much hungrier than he thought, and he started picking up pace, eating faster and faster until it looked like he was barely chewing at all.

“Too fast baby, too fast,” I said gently, putting a hand on his knee. Asra froze, his mouth still full of bread. He looked at me, panic stricken, unsure of what to do. I could tell that he was afraid of throwing up, but he was so hungry that he just wasn’t sure  _how_ to slow down. His eyes welled up with tears again, and a sob bubbled in the back of his throat pitifully.

“It’s okay! It’s okay, honey, you’re not in trouble, just chew slowly, okay? Smaller bites,” I said, rubbing his knee comfortingly.

Asra nodded, the look of panic on his face easing, and chewed slowly and deliberately.

“There you go honey, that’s better. You’re doing a great job.” The teapot whistled only a few moments later, and I helped Asra take sips of tea between every few bites of bread. I watched him carefully, fidgeting by rubbing the burn scars on my hands. 

It was about half an hour before he finished everything, finally drinking the tea down to the dregs. Asra sighed and put down the cup delicately, careful not to break it. Then he looked at me, violet eyes half shut with exhaustion.

“Warm,” he said dazedly. 

“Does your tummy hurt, bud?”

“No, feels happy. Happy tummy.” Asra smiled dopely, his head swaying a bit. But he suddenly got a rather serious look on his face. “I have to go now.”

“You have to go?” I said, surprised.  _Where could he possibly go?_ I thought.

“Yeah. I have to go help my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“His name is Muriel. He’s not my real brother, because he didn’t have the same parents as me, but it’s still my brother. He’s waiting for me on the beach.” Asra floated off the counter, steadier now that he’d eaten. He padded over to the rest of the loaf of bread on the cutting board and pointed to it. 

“Can I have the rest of that? Muriel is probably really hungry too.”

“I--Of course! Here and take the second one too,” I said. I took out a cloth sack, wrapped both loaves nicely in paper, and packed them. I stepped into my little house behind the shop for a moment and grabbed two thick blankets and a bar of soap and put those in the sack too. 

I helped Asra put it on, adjusting it to fit his tiny frame. I fiddled with the strap for a little too long, trying to buy time before he had to leave. When I finally finished, and it seemed he was really going, he reached up suddenly.

“Can I see your hands?” he said, stretching his fingers high, trying to grab my hands.

I crouched and held out my palms for him, feeling puzzled. Asra took my scarred, calloused hands in his own young, soft ones and started rubbing at the old burns with his thumbs.

Slowly, the stiff scars melted away, much like the gash on his arm had only an hour ago. Asra kissed my knuckles. “Thank you Ssssselasi,” he said.

“Heh, no problem Asra. You be careful out there, okay? And if you, or your brother Muriel are ever hungry again, come straight to me. Anything you need, I’m here for you, okay?”

Asra grinned the widest grin I’d seen all evening, and flung his arms around me in a tight hug.

Then he bounded away, without another word, each of his steps making him float just a second too long in the air. I watched him fly over a house, his black silhouette almost blending in with the slowly emerging stars. And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Let me know of any feedback, especially on Asra! I was trying to make his kid-speak as realistic as I could.


End file.
